Wednesday, January 22, 2014

Wordspace Spoken Word Set List (Dallas 01.25.14)

Chocoloté (2013)

Barra, barra, barra!!! Chocoloté, chocoloté!! Cinco, cinco, cinco pesos!! Barra, barra, chocoloté, cinco pesos!!

- - - - - - - -

Whiskey, a Cowboy, and a Car (2012)

Young guy in a cowboy hat offers me a ride. I get in his car, a big old station wagon, and he pulls out slowly onto the road. I notice as he slowly veers across the road, but with a real momentum building, and I say "where are we going?". He replies, "to the bar!", and pulls out a big bottle of whiskey, taking one last swig and tossing the empty out the window.

We jump the median now and head straight toward a parked car, almost grazing it, but he's driving with a real precision and delicacy. Eventually, we barrel to a stop at a storefront, and he hops out as I follow. Walking in, I watch as he steps up to a clerk, an older man, and says, "hey dad, make him some soup".

- - - - - - - -

Bolsheviks (2012)

Dark warehouse, an old factory, it is raining lightly, water coming through the open roof as I gather some small works of art under my arm to try and protect them.  Through an opening, I see a group of young workers huddled together, talking in a shadowy room. I take the artworks and move toward the door, but a small guy, Bolshevik looking, gray cotton tunic, tiny round gold-rimmed glasses and a floppy cap, blocks the door, he and his two thug companions. I see an open blade in his hand. I try and rush the door, but  he thrusts the blade toward me, tearing through my shirt and pressing against my chest. Without thinking, I lift him up by the tunic, throw him against the wall and shake his knife loose. Placing my foot on the knife, I reach down, grab it, and brandish towards him, and for a moment consider doing him in. Letting go now, I yell, "If I see you again, I will mess you up", as he and his cohorts disappear into the night.

- - - - - - - -

Alarm Clock (2013)

Over the summer, this young guy pulls up at the neighbor's house a few times a week, way early in the morning, to water their yard while they're gone on vacation.

He always leaves his car door open while he waters, with the music blasting something like this:

Lo mien, bitches and whores and cocaine,
Liven' it up but I'm gone by thirty,
Shit my pants and my underwear's dirty,
Corversier's flow in', my rep's a grow in',
Down on the dance floor it's been snow in'.

It was kinda nice, 'cause I really didn't have to set my alarm clock for a few weeks.

- - - - - - - -

Way Down South (2006)

a way down yonder in the land of crackers,
star babies, computer hackers,
look away, look away, look away, way down south.

where the river mud is dirty brown,
piss is yellow, you're a handsome fella,
look away, look away, look away, way down south.

stole my first car at the age o' thirteen,
back seat drivin', got inside her jeans,
look away, look away, look away, way down south.

sweet honey in tha' rock, mary jane upon the stalk,
watch for snakes where you walk,
look away, look away, look away, way down south.

got back from church early in the morn,
kicked out my t.v. watchin' porn,
look away, look away, look away, way down south.

donde esta...ahhh muy bien,
shake those hips, iniquity and sin,
look away, look away, look away, way down south.

maya, priscilla, rosa and dolly,
mahalia, aretha, flannery, molly,
hallelu, hallelu, hallelu, look away, way down south.

- - - - - - - - 

Traffic (2013)

Summer early evening traffic heat bleach blonde long hair skinny chick lookin' dude rocking out to metal air drumming on the steering wheel as he rolls by.

- - - - - - - -

Columbus Circle (2013)

Sunny, brutal cold winter afternoon, walking through the midst of a sprawling fight at Columbus Circle. young toughs tangle on the sidewalk, then up, strutting with theatrical gestures and threats in lieu of fisticuffs. "I'm coming back, alright, and when I do, I will light this place up."

- - - - - - - -

Gladiator (2013)

He was a participant in some kind of contest, a collective battle to the death with the other ones chosen. They were all larger than life living monster action figures with bulging muscles, part animal and oddly proportioned, like in comic books. He understood they all were to die by the end of the contest, battling to the death in one on one matches, the winner being ceremonially executed by the lord overseer in a public forum. The others did not seem aware of this, as they gathered in the holding cell, eyeing each of the other monsters, sizing up their weaknesses, as he formed his own plot to escape this madness.

- - - - - - - -

Gun It (2013)

Riding in a large sedan with a sixty-something collector who is driving. He pulls up to a closed gate at the top of the marina. I yell "gun it!", and he does, breaking down the gate and heading downhill fast toward the water. Skidding to a stop at the last moment, we step out and walk over and onto his yacht. Reaching over, I shake his hand, and say "I'm Randall Garrett, I used to run Plush Gallery", just to break the ice. He says, "I know, I don't like you, you're too brash. But while you're here, tell me what you think of my art collection".

- - - - - - - -

Epic Loft Scene (2013)

New York, I follow William Burroughs up the creaky stairs into an old loft, precarious flooring being papered over by artistic types in some kind of creative frenzy. I step across the papered over floor, and almost fall through a large hole. Peering down into it, I apologize to a man working in the clothing sweat shop below. Now looking across the open loft space, I see Burroughs and the other loft dwellers go into a shamanistic trance, moving rhythmically in jerking dance movements to mysterious offstage music.

- - - - - - - -

That Which Has No Name (2013)

What if he could zoom out and see from all points of view at the same time, he thought, through every pair of eyes, through every body that moves and breathes and experiences ecstasy and suffering and the ebb and flow and heavy drag of gravity...

...and on further, feeling the world through the viewpoint of all creatures and forms, moving or no, the dark sensations of grubs munching on decaying refuse below the earth, a rock lying in the warm sun, dirty smoke billowing joyously from a smokestack...

...and beyond that, into realms both known and unknown, of haunted shades consumed by the illusive nature of their own rage or hunger or lusts, fucking and killing and devouring, and of beings lost in visionary pleasures high above these worlds...

...a point of view that encompasses all of these experiences without distinction or self, a place of no religion or nationality, no politics or identifications, like the tight grip of a baby to whom everything is new or the loose one of an old man who has already seen it all and is ready to let go...

...a way of seeing he might be tempted to call god, or life, or reality, but even those would be false, making idols out of that experience which looks through all these forms we inhabit, yet which has no name.

- - - - - - - -

Continental Avenue (2012)

Walkin' down Continental Ave, headed to the gallery, mindin' my own business..."Hey, know who you look like? You look like that...m-th-rf-kn' rock-n-roll singer from back in the day. What's his  name?"

- - - - - - - -

Acrostic (2009)

Alternative forms of dopamine
Beautiful yet weary
Connective tissue connecting
Dreams of flying
Entire nations swallowed, the
Fullness of time
Google maps lie, an
Hopeful rebirth
Illusionistic time
Justice with mercy, a
Kiss for luck
Losing track of things
Mysterious ingredients
None of the above
Oil and water mix
Potty training progresses
Quixotic endeavors ever
Reigniting the spark
Scenarios, both real and imagined
True, sort of
Under the water
Violent equilibrium ensues
Where to begin
Xeriscaping the future
Young teaches old
Zen unfolding

- - - - - - - -

Creation Story (2013)

there, among the ruins, up into the eyes of mercy.
racing thoughts, a watering in my mouth, the scent of a lilac.
mocked now by all the things I could have done.

the laughter after the joke, the ringing in my ears.
ecstasy giving way to fever and delirium.
a sensing of the all expansive, yet nowhere to be found.

seeing it all so clearly now, like a gift.
stumbling somewhere between waking and sleeping.
so subtle, always there, just waiting.

walking around barefoot in my dreams.
feeling…I am not this, I am not this…
and where are you now, and what are you thinking?

i remember, it all seemed so easy then.
the stroke of a brush, a gentle caress.
imagination taking form.

feverish, an apocalyptic snowfall,
riding downhill in graceful arcs.
catching a snowflake on my tongue.

in creation it appears, there is no limit,
out of nothing, infinity springs forth.
a dab of paint, the breath of life.

Earth dissolves into water, water dissolves into fire,
fire dissolves into air, air dissolves into the void.
grace and karma, sister and brother.

Listen, engage the world through a child's eyes.
exhilaration, riding on a narrow ledge over such a deep chasm.
a land shrouded in fog, swimming now, far out in the ocean.

this tidal wave of Samsara.
droning feedback rushes through, coursing upward,
In such proximity, yet always just beyond reach.

- - - - - - - -

Script (2013)

I'm in a play with Ryder. The script is written on sheets of white poster board. We gather behind the outdoor booth stage to discuss, and he asks "what are the lines?". I reply, "it doesn't matter, they can't hear us anyway", motioning across the way to the great distance between us and the small crowd. I grab the posters as we walk out to begin the performance, and lay them on the dusty ground in front of us.

- - - - - - - -

Footnote to Footnote to Howl (2009)

holy, holy, holy, holy, holy, holy, holy!
all existence, connection, and touch,
the tongue, the flower, the flowing waters,
all places, change and being,
each an angel masquerading in time.

the salty cold wet of the east river
the faked in black eye of an aging skaterboy,
dark alleyways, pulquerias, mariachis for hire,
everyone stacked in the back of a van,
barefoot, sneaking in by a south beach backdoor.

an artist crawling by candlelight,
a chord growled from darkness,
a prisoner underground waiting to emerge,
old woman in the elevator asking "do you go down?"
the year of bleeding profusely, of sacred revelations and betrayals.

chaos, liquid form and structure,
dirty dancing with the girls at a gay club,
stories told, retold, and changed along the way,
holy Robert, holy Michael, holy Val, holy Mary, holy Thor,
sing along and change the words.

playing in the night,
eating, drinking, smokey hookahs and secret recipes,
from this night on we are the party,
the sacred intensity of Riley's ink,
backyard yurts and quiet lonely nights.

diving into ice cold pools and shivering
nothing but stars and a moon crossing the sky
the beauty and affliction of John's line,
one long live serenade of truth,
singing along to such glorious insanity, the only way.

- - - - - - - -

Snake Kiss (2013)

Holding a black snake in my hands, tightly. I loosen my grip and let it unwind, watching my fear rise as it does. Cupping my hands, I raise it near my face to look at it more closely. As I do, it moves close, and I resist the urge to tighten my grip. Its head lifts up, it looks me straight in the eyes and opens its jaws, lightly grasping my mouth in a tender kiss.

- - - - - - - -

Bear Ballet (2013)

Down in a corner of the ranch, I spy a huge bear coming my way, head lowered. It runs up to me and I rub it on the snout, then we head out across the open field. Running along, we jump into the air, backs together, spinning, our feet entwined in a joyous celebration of life. We continue this dance, jumping and turning in the air, as the scene fades.

- - - - - - - -

Spinning (2013)

Walking out in the cold dark wintry night, stars spinning in the sky, no one and nothing around, yet feeling only gratitude. To be born into this world and to experience all of the sensations of this body: fear, solitude, uncertainty, the wonder and blessing of it all. The cold wind pushing through, the ghostlike shadows, the uneven road, the missed opportunities, the stories told and untold, and all that remains unknown on this journey.

- - - - - - - -

Joaquin Phoenix (2009)

Last night I dreamt that Joaquin Phoenix, dressed in rockabilly gear, slicked back hair was driving me through the streets of L.A. at high speeds. He was behind the wheel of a tricked out low-rider with a giant jewel encrusted chain steering wheel.

- - - - - - - -

Slam Dunk (2014)

Home boys blowin' smoke in the crisp night air of a pickup basketball game, as high above the stars twinkle, same as they have on a few hundred billion other nights, and I notice for the first time that Betelgeuse pulses red every few seconds, and that the dimmer stars come into focus when you're not really looking at them, and how I used to practice really hard, thinking I was gonna be able to slam dunk some day. I could touch the rim, at least.